Free Foreign Éclairs by Julie Hyzy Page B

and she delivered thoughtful, intelligent answers to all of them. Older than Cyan by a few years—closer to my age, probably—Lottie had a small mouth, pink, puffy cheeks, and a tendency to bite her bottom lip. Her face was damp with perspiration, but her eyes were alert.
    We were about three-quarters of the way through the interview when Sargeant asked about her availability. The sooner she could start the better, but everyone understood the need to provide a current employer with appropriate notice.
    For the first time during the interview, Lottie winced. “I hope you both understand how very much I desire to work here,” she said.
    Sargeant and I exchanged a glance. There was a “but” screaming behind her words.
    “Go ahead,” he said.
    “I first learned about the job opening three weeks ago,” she said. “I applied immediately, of course. I never dreamed I’d be called in for an interview, but here I am.”
    We both waited.
    “
Four
weeks ago,” she said, stressing the word, “my husband and I put a bid on a house.” She bit her lip. “In California. His parents are out there, and our daughter is almost three. We believed it would be a good environment for our little family. Our bid was accepted, and we began making plans to move.”
    “Why did you apply for this position if you knew you were relocating?”
    She lifted both hands. “I couldn’t
not
apply,” she said. “This would be a dream job for me. I put my name in fully knowing that even if I were lucky enough to wrangle an interview, I would most likely be unable to actually accept the job. When the White House called me last week to schedule today’s interview, I couldn’t find it in my heart to refuse. I just couldn’t.”
    I watched my high hopes for hiring this woman shred into tatters around me.
    “The thing is,” she went on, “two days before that, our Realtor called. The house inspector uncovered a problem. A big one. I won’t bore you with all the details, but right now it looks as though our plans are in flux.”
    “Oh?” My mood brightened. “You mean there’s a chance you may be staying in D.C.?”
    She kept her hands in her lap, but her fingers never stopped moving. “If the house purchase doesn’t go through and if I’m hired here, then there’s no question: We’ll stay.”
    “That’s a lot of ifs.” Sargeant’s back was rigid and his words were sharp.
    “I wanted to be as up-front about my situation as possible. Contractually, we’re required to allow the home sellers a chance to resolve the problem before we can walk away from the deal. If we cancel before then, we stand to lose a lot of money we can’t afford. Until we know which way it will go, I’m in limbo.” Her gaze flicked from me to Sargeant, back tome. “I completely understand if this situation disqualifies me from consideration, and I apologize for wasting your time.”
    Years of working with Sargeant provided me with insight to his moods. His darkening brow, the exactitude with which he folded his hands atop his desk, and the set of his jaw presaged a storm about to blow.
    Jumping in before he could quash Lottie Catalano’s hope with a scathing dismissal, I said, “We truly appreciate your honesty.” Getting to my feet, I said, “I hope we have the opportunity to discuss this further. Will you keep us updated on your situation?”
    Lottie’s visible panic transformed into a glow of excitement as she stood to shake my hand. “Yes, of course I will. I’d be happy to. The minute I know anything I will be in touch. Thank you.”
    Looking like someone who’d taken a large bite of an unripe persimmon, Sargeant got up and shook Lottie’s hand. “My office will contact you soon.” He pressed a button to summon Elaine.
    “Thank you again,” she said as Sargeant’s assistant opened the door. “I was so excited to move to California, but now I really hope we get to stay here.”
    From the doorway, Elaine offered a bland smile as she